Аннотация: MMMDXXVIII. Three Pears (To Say Nothing of the Towel). A humorous story about a hike to a place of rest. - August 3, 2024.
Three Pears (To Say Nothing of the Towel). A humorous story about a hike to a place of rest.
One day, during a morning walk, I met a kind man who told me about various vacation spots in Rostov-on-Don and about their history.
In his story, my attention was attracted by the mention of a spring (a natural water source), with an equipped place for bathing and benches.
After returning home, I carefully looked at the detailed map and made (prepared) the route to this spring.
A couple of days later, I went to the bus stop and took the bus in the right direction.
Obeying an internal impulse, I got off not at the planned stop, but at the previous one.
I was walking down the street - in the great heat - looking at the beautiful cathedral.
There was a church donation box on the street, into which I dropped a not big banknote.
Here is the street I need, which I must turn into in order to walk straight along it - almost up to the very spring.
I'm doing a turn onto this street. And suddenly I find myself in the territory of the rows of collective garages.
And where is the needed street?
A detailed discussion of the situation with several local inhabitants (I take out a detailed map for viewing).
It turns out from the conversation that this place, this territory was once a street (they do not remember the name).
In their opinion, I need to walk to a very large garage, turn left, and then show resourcefulness and the ability to navigate.
I walk between the rows of garages. I see a big garage.
If I follow the map, I need to turn right instead of left (as it was recommended by the collective opinion). I see a narrow passage between the garages, turn right, walk steeply down between the thickets (the shrubs) along a narrow path, climb over a huge concrete chute and find myself not far from the railroad tracks (rails).
Indeed, there is a railway on the map. It seems that I'm going in right direction.
The Sun is scorching. It is inconvenient to walk. But I'm dressed appropriately, thus I persistently go ahead. My "maneuver" is limited. Through the railway (to the right) it makes no sense for me to cross over (if you believe the map). And on the left there is a huge concrete chute. After about half a kilometer, I see two people crossing the railway ahead, a hundred meters away.
At some point, they end up on my left. There are thickets and a huge concrete chute between us. I shout to them: "How to get to the spring!?". "How I can reach the spring!!!???".
The man accompanying the woman points uncertainly at the dirt road. They take a few steps, after which he stops, points to a huge technical tower and says loudly: "There is a path there!"
The tower is attractive because it represents an obvious landmark.
I'm going to the tower. There is a path. I'm walking along the path. I am saved from the evil dogs by a stick and a large stone that I pick up from the ground.
The thorny thickets are getting thicker. I'm trying to get between them somehow, although I feel sorry for my clothes. It seems to be a dead end, at the end of which there is a tree: a wild pear tree. On this tree there are attractive - at first glance - fruits with golden sides.
I pick three pears and put them in my bag.
I'm going back.
I go out to the place where the man and woman I met passed half an hour ago.
Here I can see several dirt roads leading in different directions.
I am trying to explore these roads, in terms of their orientation towards the spring.
It's the area of gardens plots, of dachas. It's very hot, there's not a single person on the streets. No one is visible on the garden plots either.
At some point, a car appears. I step to the side of the road, look at the driver, and make a greeting gesture with my hand.
"Where is the spring here?"
"Follow our car, you'll see there."
I'm going to get the car. An inconspicuous descent down. I wouldn't have noticed him myself.
I'm moving along a wide path. I'm going around the stopped car I met earlier.
Loud voices and lively noise are heard.
Indeed, here is an equipped bathing place filled with water. There is a not the largest crowd of people of different ages around.
There are benches, too.
The narrator I met one morning explained everything correctly to me. The only thing he missed was that the spring gives a very small inflow (supply) of water. That is, the water is practically not flowing, but standing, it is now (in hot weather) warm (already).
Today is a day off, there are a lot of people.
There are about ten to fifteen children of ten to twelve years of age in a relatively small pool.
They stand in waist-deep water, move around this pool, but do not leave it.
A stout woman in specific clothes is standing next to them, apparently she is an older relative of someone bathing.
Companies with various kinds of drinks and food are settled around the pool. There is a shadow here, around there are trees (a small grove).
I look thoughtfully at the pool and the children in it.
I drove (by bus) and walked (by feet) to this place for an hour or an hour and a half. Just turn around and head home?
I decide to undress to enter the water.
There are improvised clothes hangers here. I hang my things on these hangers.
I am standing on the edge of the pool, near a stone staircase arranged for a convenient descent into the water.
"Well, children, will you give me the opportunity to enter the water?"
The older woman makes a sign. The children make way.
I quickly approach the place where a little water is pouring out of the wall, I immerse myself in water (up to the neck), and return "to the shore."
Several visitors made free space on the bench, so I'm moving my things to the bench.
There is a young man with his son standing next to me. The man is wearing a rather noticeable chain. It seems it to be gold. He has a large plastic cup with a drink in his hand.
I start drying off, changing clothes, getting dressed.
At the same time, I ask the man how to get to the street, where I can take public transport home.
The man is complacent and courteous. He is extremely polite.
He and his son love to ride bicycles. (I react enthusiastically: a bicycle is a good thing).
The man explains that from this place of rest I can depart in three directions. For some reason, he emphasizes three times (with intonation) that I have a possibility to move myself from one district to another (since this place is on the border of one of the administrative urban districts). (Why is it important for me to exchange one administrative district for another?).
The man takes out his smartphone and finds this place on the map. He shows me some photos of the place where we are.
He explains: the bus stop is very close!
Basically, I'm roughly guided by how I need to go. But there is one simple and useful phrase in the man's explanations: I need to constantly go up.
The man wonders why I tie a towel around my waist instead of going to the locker room.
I answer that they usually squeeze out swimming trunks and swimsuits in the locker rooms, and, accordingly, there is not a very pleasant smell. So I adapted to changing clothes, covering myself with a towel.
"There's only one cigarette butt," the man remarks, but he doesn't dispute my explanation. He suggests that his son go for a dip in the water.
Somehow, my sneakers, trousers, and T-shirt are all smeared with mud. Even my panama hat managed to fall to the ground and get dirty. But I remember that it's very hot outside, and there are practically no people. So I can walk the main distance to the bus stop with a panama hat on, which is smeared with mud.
I'm going back. In some cases, the explanation of "going up all the time" turns out to be very useful and saves me from unnecessary turns into unnecessary streets.
After dirt roads, asphalt and house numbers begin. With a detailed map, it becomes easy to navigate.
After twenty-five minutes of walking in the heat, I find myself at a bus stop.
Ten or fifteen minutes of waiting, and I get on the right bus and go home.
I put the panama hat in my bag. Is there any need - for me - to be in a mud-smeared panama hat in the bus cabin?
Arriving home (my hike took about three hours), I ate all three pears - although they were tough and tasteless.
I did the right thing by getting off not at the scheduled stop, but earlier, and passing by the cathedral, I put the not big banknote in the church donation box (on the street next to the cathedral).
August 3, 2024 04:29
Translation from Russian into English: August 3, 2024 14:43
Владимир Владимирович Залесский ' Три груши, не считая полотенца. Юмористический рассказ о походе к месту отдыха '.
{ 3557. Три груши, не считая полотенца. Юмористический рассказ о походе к месту отдыха. - 3 августа 2024 г.
MMMDXXVIII. Three Pears (To Say Nothing of the Towel). A humorous story about a hike to a place of rest. - August 3, 2024.
Vladimir Zalessky Internet-bibliotheca. Интернет-библиотека Владимира Залесского. }